"What about you? Magus, you've asked me so many questions, speak of yourself," the silver-haired youth said.
"Me?" Afvla said.
The silver-haired youth nodded in silence.
Afvla hesitated for a moment, unsure of where to start.
What should she say? Speak of her birth in the infernal realm, or the subsequent machinations and betrayals among apprentices in Thunder's colleague's mage tower? Even now, appearing on the frontline battlefield of the demon war, fighting alongside the church's army, was due to the malicious punishment of her evil black dragon mentor.
Every event, in this plane shrouded in the radiance of the god of light, was a secret that could not be uttered.
"...Let's talk about this war," Afvla said.
"Are you afraid?" the silver-haired youth asked.
His eyes, tranquil as the vast sea and bright as the night sky, left no room for cleverly spun lies.
"I fear that I will perish in obscurity, quietly and without a trace," Afvla said, her fingers involuntarily touching the wound on her abdomen, then pressing deeply to feel the intense pain emanating from there.
On the battlefield between gods and demons, she was more inconspicuous than weeds, more humble and lowly than ants.
In the endless carnage, she could turn into a lifeless body on the battlefield at any moment, rotting away amid the trampling, deeply buried in the earth.
No one would remember her.
As if she had never appeared in this world.
"In fact, the fear did not start recently; I have been this way since childhood," Afvla explained again.
Afvla did not expect this high-ranking figure from the Radiant Church to understand her feelings. However, when she looked at him again, she saw enlightenment and tolerance in those eyes.
"In that case, leave the battlefield," the silver-haired youth said.
Afvla was somewhat at a loss because of his words and asked, "Where to?"
"Go to the Holy Land of the Church, find the Pope. I know him, and he will ensure your safety and a peaceful life in the Holy Land," the silver-haired youth said.
"Thank you, but I cannot," Afvla said.
"If you're worried about the contract with your mentor not being resolved, that's okay. After finding the Pope, he will take care of it for you," the silver-haired youth said again.
Afvla almost thought he was joking, but under the hazy starlight, the silver-haired youth's expression was cold and calm, making her understand that it was not a jest but a serious suggestion.
He genuinely wanted her to go to the Holy Land to seek the Pope's protection.
Afvla looked at him for a few seconds, finally couldn't help but cover her mouth with her hand, and burst into laughter with a sound "pfft."
It wasn't mockery, but rather a very joyous laughter, as if encountering a rare moment of delight.
"Oh my, how can a devout follower of Lord Angus like you be so naive! You are too innocent!" Afvla said while laughing.
Midway through her words, she quickly waved her hand to prevent any misunderstanding.
There was a dark gray rock on the edge of the cliff, half on the ground, half hanging in the air, swaying precariously on the edge of the cliff.
Afvla took a few steps back and sat on the cold, hard rock.
"I'm not making fun of you... it's just, I never thought that there would be someone in this world who would willingly help a person they've only met once or twice, just because that person complained about being afraid of the battlefield," Afvla said.
"Not only met once or twice. In the months before coming to the front line, I witnessed you helping the civilians here, and I saw you bravely fighting demons..." the silver-haired youth paused, then pronounced her name in a deep, pleasant voice, "...Afvla. You are still worth redeeming and helping."
"Huh? Is there such a thing? Do you of the Radiant Church use Mage Sight or some form of detection magic?" Afvla said with a smile.
"Go to the Holy Land and find the Pope?" the silver-haired youth said.
"Thanks, but I can't..." Afvla expressed her gratitude with a gentle gaze, much more sincere than before. She continued with a smile, "It's not because of my mentor. To be honest, he has indeed caused me a lot of trouble, but it hasn't reached the point of causing psychological trauma. I am afraid in my heart, but leaving for such a reason would be mere escapism."
Only death could bring her a constant growth of magical power.
The silver-haired youth did not speak, but Afvla could guess the disappointment in his heart.
It was probably the feeling of trying to help a child stealing things in the impoverished streets out of goodwill, only for the child to push away the bread in his hand, then stubbornly go steal someone else's wallet.
After the first batch of arriving troops suffered a casualty rate exceeding fifty percent, the commander of this army ceased the rescue of civilians, regardless of whether there were survivors on the demonized lands.
Because the demonic expeditionary force had already assembled.
As the impending great war approached, the day should have dawned, but in the distant east, there was no rising sun. There were only endless layers of black clouds pressing down from above.
Amidst a backdrop reminiscent of doomsday, the vast demonic army approached from afar.
The demons moved with extraordinary speed, with even the weakest imps possessing strength around the fourth tier. From a distant black tide to the siege at the city walls, in nearly an instant, they crashed against the ramparts like a tidal wave.
In this war, if the armies of the Radiant Church succeeded, they would intercept the demons here and proceed to systematically annihilate them. On the contrary, if they failed, the demonic legions would scatter like flowing water, deeply infiltrating all the towns across the entire plane, leaving priests exhausted in the following years, tirelessly hunting demons.
In such a battlefield, Afvra carefully selected her prey, resembling a silent specter moving in the darkness. Time and again, she killed demons, drawing strength from death.
The elf Yuliel naturally joined her, standing on the city walls to confront the demons. After all, they had developed a camaraderie through their encounters.
His archery skills were excellent. After Afvra explained the weaknesses of each demon, his magical arrows shot from the bowstring could precisely target those lethal vulnerabilities.
When a demon was hit in its weak point, it would be on the verge of death. At such moments, Afvra immediately supplemented the attack with a spell, stealing away the demon's life entirely.
On the gray stone city walls stained with layered blood, a colossal spider-like demon rolled in the air and fiercely collided. A magic arrow, entwined with deep blue electric light, had penetrated deeply into its head's armor crevice!
"Hiss—"
The spider, the size of a house, swung its limbs, attempting to stand up again, emitting a bone-chilling, fragmented sound. Its abdomen expanded and contracted, releasing a substantial amount of spider silk mixed with venom towards the elf!
Afvra timely waved her wand.
A magical shield firmly stood in front of the elf, blocking the venom and spider silk.
Afvra walked towards the direction of the spider while the elf looked on. In her hand, a black flame danced and leaped.
The flames scattered, tightly enveloping the spider-like demon like a meteor, rendering its struggles futile. Within seconds, it was incinerated into a pile of black ashes.
The elf approached, curious blue eyes fixed on the flames. In a seemingly casual manner, he asked, "What is the name of this magic?"
"This is a spell created by my mentor, and it hasn't been named yet," Afvra replied.
In these days, Afvra had more than once felt fortunate to have the disguise spell personally bestowed upon her by the God of Death.
This disguise spell not only concealed the dark aura around her but also indirectly distorted the outward effects of all her cast spells.
Just like this ball of negative energy flames, which, in Afvra's eyes, perfectly matched its name, burning pitch-black and exuding a haunting beauty. However, to outsiders like elves, it appeared as a cluster of crimson flames with golden sparkles.
Yuliel was curious about this unfamiliar magic. He seemed inclined to ask more questions but restrained himself due to the elves' inherent pride, remaining silent.
Afvra had no intention of explaining to him. After the magical power was nearly depleted, she descended from the city walls and temporarily rested inside the dark castle with other injured soldiers.
Not long after, Yuliel returned with his longbow after firing the last magic arrow.
At this moment, the castle fell into sudden silence, followed by the resounding shattering of all the glass under tremendous pressure.
—This situation was not unfamiliar; it was caused by the pressure of a Ninth-tier powerhouse.
Afvra stood up and, through the narrow window of the castle, looked at the sky outside.
The ground war was nearing its end, but the aerial conflict was yet to conclude.
There, the Bishop in crimson robes, a Ninth-tier powerhouse, was locked in combat with high-level demons.
The sky roared, with raging fires, thunder, and dazzling light interweaving in every corner. The oppressive pressure radiated in all directions, obliterating every living being within its reach on the battlefield.
Only when she witnessed it with her own eyes did she realize how vast the gap was in this world of swords and magic between ordinary humans and demons.
Not to mention being compared to deities.
In front of the castle window, glistening glass shards covered the ground.
Concerned about being affected by the aftermath of the battlefield, Afvra took a few steps back, standing in the shadow just a line away from the sunlight. She lowered her head, her jet-black hair falling, obscuring her face gradually clouded in melancholy.
"What happened to you?" Yuliel asked.
"I am too weak, and my progress is too slow," Afvra calmly said.
The expression on the elf's pointed ears was momentarily indescribable.
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